We Might Fall
by offbrandgizmo
Summary: Clint is beginning to feel the weight of the monotony that has taken over his life. Boring missions, followed by hardly commendable training sessions, complete with an excess of time spent with his dysfunctional 'family'. But maybe a chance meeting with an insomniac who reads for a living can change that? That is, if he doesn't forget to get her number - oh wait, too late. ClintxOC
1. Clint of Leather Jackets and Tea

**We Might Fall**

 ** _A relevant note: I have bumped Clint's age down to 27, and for the purpose of this story, his family does not exist. Sorry, Laura._**

 ** _A rare (and the only) disclaimer: I am glad that I do not own Marvel. I would never do it justice. I could never fathom anything as marvelous._**

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Clint of Leather Jackets and Raspberry Vanilla Tea**

These days, Clint Barton had taken to going on long walks after missions. _Really_ long walks.

He was beginning to really feel the fairly consistent routine – and he didn't quite know what to make of it. It was something solid; but was the solidity worth the absurdly monotonous uniformity? Hawkeye was definitely one for uniformity, but these days, Clint was having a hard time separating his two identities – if you could even call them that. When he wasn't on a mission, he was either on his habitual walk, spending time with his family – family that, might he mention, consisted of his best friend and master assassin, an idiot in a metal suit, a demigod, the walking epitome of patriotism, and, as Tony would so eloquently put it, a 'big green rage monster'. And if not that or the dull, barely commendable training, then what? Missions, training, family – and a dysfunctional one at that. There was nothing that _Clint_ did that _Hawkeye_ didn't do. They were one and the same.

There was nothing else in his life.

What reason did he have? What purpose? He couldn't draw a single feasible thing to mind, and he couldn't simply ride it off as being tired from the mission they had just returned from. Because he knew that even when he woke up the very next morning rejuvenated, he would still feel this same strange hollowness that had been persistently weighing him down ever since the battle of New York.

He heaved a sigh too heavy for his measly 27 years, and leaned over the edge of the bridge he'd come upon. He heard the soothing sound of running water below, and he peered down at the long drop, feeling his stomach turn slightly.

 _I guess Clint isn't entirely fearless._ He thought, knowing that if he was in Hawkeye mentality, the fall wouldn't have even crossed his mind.

He hadn't even registered how far from the tower he was until he turned as the wind caught his face in a light caress, the sound of the occasional car rushing past behind him numbing to a dull echo as he closed his eyes.

The peace only lasted momentarily until he felt a prickle in the back of his neck and he turned to see a girl with her legs dangling over the outer side of the bridge adjacent to him. The panic was quick to set in as he dashed across the road, thankful that it was currently void of cars. His instinct to save people had been heightened as a result of spending time around the Captain. He slowed, though, as he came upon a sight different to the one he had pictured.

Instead of being a crying mess, or even wearing a remotely sad expression, the girl had her eyes closed peacefully, a soft smile tugging at her lips as the wind tousled her brown hair.

Clint froze at the sight and found himself unable to tear his eyes away, despite the thoughts raging through his head about the uncharacteristic reaction he was having to a girl he'd never met.

Suddenly, her eyes flicked open to display a blue that was so light it could have almost been clear, and time seemed to slow for a moment before it was pulled back into motion by a stumble, and a cry.

Clint jumped forward and grabbed the girl's arm tightly, steadying her as she rocked forward, losing her balance.

It was strange, that no words had yet been exchanged. Dull blue eyes met with the lightest he'd ever seen, and he felt a flip in his stomach similar to the earlier one, but somehow drastically different.

Finally, Clint spoke. "You're not going to jump, are you?"

There was a moment of silence before she responded. "Of course not. Are you?"

Clint removed his arm slowly, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "What kind of a response is that?" He questioned, fighting the grin that was threatening to break out.

The girl let out an almost humourless breath of a laugh and pulled up to a stand, surprising Clint when the smile – the one that had seemed so genuine – faded altogether. "It was the response of a girl who's had a long day." She stated.

There was a pause. Clint was watching the girl, who couldn't have been more than a few inches shorter than him, and she wasn't meeting his eyes, instead looking towards the ground before shutting her eyes and sighing.

"I know a restaurant that has really good tea." He wasn't sure whether it came out as a request or a statement; he just knew that it was his voice that he heard speaking.

"I don't even know you." She let out an exasperated breath before her eyes flitted away from his for a second before returning to catch them again after an indefinite pause. "But I could use a cup of tea."

* * *

Clint was beginning to wonder if he'd been drugged. His movements felt ghostly, his thoughts were fleeting, and he was somehow sitting in an almost formal restaurant, suddenly feeling the absence of his leather jacket as he inspected the girl sitting across from him.

He could see the faint splay of freckles that were barely noticeable, accenting her oval eyes and plumb lips that didn't quite fit the structure of her face. Her hair was a mess of curls that somehow sat in both harmony and disharmony with one another.

And Clint couldn't for the life of him figure out why the hell he was noticing so many little details.

 _I'm a spy._ He decided. _I'm a master assassin. Of course I'm analysing her._ But part of him knew it wasn't just analytical.

"I wasn't going to jump, you know." He glanced up at the sound of her voice, which, despite her shy appearance, seemed a little deeper and a little less meek than he'd previously thought. "Honestly." She continued at his prompting expression. "I just really like the stars, and that bridge has a really nice view."

"You go there often?"

"Sometimes."

"Hm. Vague."

She shook her head at him, the ghost of a smile peeking its way out. "Vague? Hm, sounds familiar. A little like the man who took me out to a fancy restaurant for nothing more than tea whilst he was wearing plaid and I was wearing a sundress – and I don't even know his name."

Clint smirked, peering out the window and looking hard at the sky. "Huh, that's odd, I don't see any sun."

Clint felt some kind of pride bubble in his stomach when she laughed quietly, shaking her head. "What's your name?" She asked seriously.

"Clint."

"Alright, Clint, 'Man of Plaid', what had you out at 10pm on a Monday night?" She asked with a small twitch of her lips.

Clint shook his head. "Okay, so, one," he held up a finger. "I usually wear leather. And two," He raised a second finger. "I don't even know _your_ name. That's no fair." He couldn't help the smile that slipped its way onto his face.

She smiled and laughed. "It's Hallie." She paused after a moment and frowned, rubbing her head. "I meant Hadleigh. I was going to say that most people call me Hal. But, I don't know, I guess 'Hallie' just... Yeah. It's Hal." She gave an apologetic smile. "I've had a long day."

"You're not the only one." He let out a sigh and allowed his posture to sink slightly as he sipped at his tea. The mix of raspberry and vanilla hit his tastebuds wonderfully, and he took a deep breath before he noticed a pair of blue eyes watching him curiously. "What?" He asked, fighting the embarrassment that wanted to show through. "Can't a man enjoy his tea?"

Her eyes widened for a second before she pursed her lips. "Sorry. You just didn't exactly seem like the raspberry vanilla type."

He raised his eyebrows. "What type would you recommend for me?"

She laughed. "I would have thought you were a coffee type of person, truthfully."

He nodded. "Every morning." He said seriously, though his smile betrayed his tone.

She let out that breath of laughter that she seemed to repeat often. "Bingo." She said quietly.

He sighed into his tea once more. "So?" He questioned, continuing at her confused expression. "What had _you_ out so late?"

"I asked first." She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

Clint sighed as the smile left his face, not particularly wanting to delve into that part of his life. "I got back from a mission today. I'm on the special forces." He explained, giving her a half truth. _Something like that._ He mused to himself. "I'm always tired after missions, so I walk."

She nodded. She seemed to understand that he didn't really mean physically tired, and she left the subject at that. "I was delivering a manuscript to my boss." She said, staring out the window and sipping at her own tea. "I work at a publishing firm," she explained. "And for the better part of my life, I've been an insomniac, so a lot of my hours are put in during the night." Clint listened, curiosity eating at him. Oddly, he didn't feel an ounce of guilt. "But last night, well, I guess I actually slept some, so I didn't finish reading the manuscript on time – I'm a copy editor, so I have to make sure things are ready for publication; part of the later stages of publishing." She paused to rub her head again. "Sorry. That probably means absolutely nothing to you."

"It's fine." He answered simply, not wanting to stop her. "I do find it hard to believe that you felt guilty for sleeping, though."

She just laughed quietly. "I guess so." She gave a half smile. "Anyway, I handed it to him and he was pretty mad." She continued. "I mean, I get it though. He's so stressed with all the recent manuscripts coming through the system." She paused again and seemed to contemplate continuing before she stopped completely.

Clint smiled slightly. "Well, you read for a living. Finally, a girl who loves books and _doesn't_ have glasses." He quipped in an attempt to lighten the almost sullen mood.

It seemed to work as Hallie laughed almost a little too loudly. He gave her a strange look before she gestured towards her eyes. "Contacts." She grinned, the widest smile he'd seen out of her that night. "Glasses aren't the most convenient when you're trying to drink hot tea."

Clint blinked before a similar grin broke out onto his face. It quickly moulded into a smirk. "Oh, so you knew you'd run into a devilishly handsome man who'd take you out for tea?" He raised his eyebrows as she laughed again.

"Oh, absolutely." She nodded seriously. "I'm psychic."

Clint leaned back, not hiding his amusement. "Oh, really?" He smirked expectantly.

She nodded again, retaining the seriousness.

"What am I thinking about right now?" He asked, leaning forward slightly.

There was a pause. "How good the tea is." She stated matter-of-factly.

He shook his head with a grin. "Not even close."

She fought a smile as she tried again, a little more tentatively this time. "Leather jackets?"

He shook his head once more.

She smiled slightly. "What I look like with my glasses on?"

He grinned slightly. "Warmer."

She shrugged after a few moments of thought. "I have no idea." She caved, a sheepish smile crossing her face.

He leant back again, having not previously realised how far forward he'd ended up.

"I was thinking about how blue your eyes are." He said simply.

He didn't miss the hint of red in her cheeks as she faced him once more. "Yours are blue, too."

"Debatable." He shrugged simply. "I think they're grey."

She frowned, an odd expression as her upturned lips met with a furrowed brow. "No, they're definitely blue."

He shrugged again. "Eh."

"Eh." She mocked half-heartedly.

The two both leant into their respective chairs, and Clint sighed pleasantly as he finished the last of his now lukewarm tea. Hallie followed suit and the two ended up in a comfortable silence, both staring out the window at the mostly deserted streets.

Clint looked up as a waiter approached, handing them the bill with an almost reproachful look. Clint accepted it with a frown, pulling out his wallet and handing over the correct amount, skipping on the tip. _I haven't been paid yet._ He mentally apologised. _Sorry, bud._

Hallie only seemed to look up at that moment. "Wait, did you just pay?" She asked, glancing at the now retreating waiter.

Clint nodded, and Hallie bit her lip.

"I don't know whether to feel bad for not having anything to pay you back with, or for the fact that we just came into a fancy restaurant wearing the quintessential of casual clothes and ordered nothing but tea."

The two looked at each other for a moment before both of them broke, Hallie laughing sheepishly while Clint chuckled. _That explains the waiter's attitude._ He thought. _Who goes to a fancy restaurant just for tea? I do._

Shortly after, the pair were standing outside the place, ready to part ways. Clint had pulled out his phone a moment earlier and called for a taxi.

He retrieved a fair amount of payment, nearly all he had on him, suddenly glad he'd skipped the tip to the waiter. It would be just enough.

The comfortable atmosphere laid out by the restaurant and the tea seemed to have dissipated, and Clint almost felt awkward standing beside the girl. He didn't know what to make of how the night had played out. It almost seemed surreal.

Little did he know, Hallie was feeling the same way. "Uh, Clint." She suddenly clapped her hands and nodded to herself. "Thanks." She shoved her hands into the thin pockets of her cardigan. "You made my evening a lot better than it would have been."

She leaned up just as the taxi pulled up beside them, leaving a slight kiss on his cheek. She couldn't help but become hyper-realistically aware of the heat in her cheeks right at that moment.

Clint took her arm gently and pushed her towards the taxi just as she turned to walk away. "No way." He shook his head. "This is my thanks for making me feel a little less tired." He said, gesturing to the taxi. He leaned into the open passenger side window and handed the driver the money in advance. "She'll tell you the address." He said.

When he was stood tall again, he noticed Hallie looking at him strangely. "What?" He questioned.

She shook her head with a smile. "Nothing. That was just really… gentlemanly." She nodded in approval at her choice of words. "Thanks. Get home safe." She told him, hesitating at the open door of the taxi. "Fare thee well, Clint of leather jackets and raspberry vanilla tea." She teased, giving him a last, almost reluctant, smile.

"Farewell, Hallie of books." He grinned.

She frowned and cocked her head with a smile. "It was a silly mistake. I told you that wasn't actually my name, though."

He shrugged with his usual eyebrow raise. "Is now."

The two shared a mutual smile before finally parting ways.

* * *

That night, Clint slept well for the first time in a while. He couldn't exactly remember how long it had been. He'd given up counting the restless nights a long time back.

And it wouldn't be until the morning when he'd finally realise that he'd let the one thing that could possibly have separated Clint Barton from Hawkeye slip right between his fingertips. And he had no idea how he would ever contact her again.

* * *

 _ **A final relevant note: I would really appreciate any reviews on this story, whether it's feedback or just encouraging words. This is sort of different to anything I've ever written. Feel free to ask questions, etc.**_

 _ **Ciao, friends.**_


	2. Clint of Ridiculously Good Aim

**We Might Fall**

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Clint of Ridiculously Good Aim**

 _I'm with SHIELD, for god's sake. I could just look her up._

 _But that's an invasion of a civilian's privacy._

 _That's right, Clint, she's a_ civilian. _You shouldn't be seeking out friendship with a civilian._

 _Yeah, as if friendship is actually what you're seeking out._

Right now, Clint Barton and Hawkeye were having a severe disagreement inside of the man's head.

 _How did you even forget to get her number? Or at least give her yours?_

 _No, you shouldn't have gone out with her anyway. You shouldn't even have approached her on the bridge to begin with._

 _But what if she was really going to jump?_

 _No, of course she wasn't. She said she wasn't._

 _God, you really need to stop thinking about this woman._

He wasn't entirely sure which side of him was arguing that last part.

He groaned and pushed himself off of the couch, turning on his heel and trudging over to the elevator, walking away from the chatters of the Avengers behind him. He pushed the button for the gym and ran a hand through his prickly hair. _What have I done to myself?_

Natasha and Steve exchanged a look, one that was soon shared among those remaining in the room.

"I bet it's a girl." Tony decided. "Anyone else notice that his walk was just a _little_ longer last night? He was gone for 3 hours."

Natasha shook her head. "Really, Stark? Of course that's where _your_ mind goes." But she didn't entirely want to admit that she had the same feeling. She was in two minds about it. If it was indeed a girl, should she point out the dangers of a SHIELD agent dating an outsider, or should she tell him to go for it?

"I happen to have a brilliant mind." Tony responded, taking a pause before continuing with his point. "JARVIS pulled up the security footage for me this morning. Our Legolas came back and was straight into bed, asleep in seconds." He stopped to allow the others to take in this information. "We all know how annoyingly restless he is." He finished matter-of-factly, resting his case.

They were all thinking the same thing – Natasha, Tony, Steve, Bruce, and even Thor. It was dangerous for someone even remotely associated with SHIELD to become involved with someone at all, especially if they existed outside of SHEILD's radar. But they'd all seen the decline in Clint's mental wellbeing. The dragging of his feet, the excessive amount of training, the silences that were just a little too long to be characteristic – it had been unsettling to them for a while.

It was almost a choice of whether to side with Hawkeye or Clint.

And none of the Avengers wanted to make that choice.

* * *

Clint pulled the arrow back, feeling the cool metal just below his cheek, and released. He stepped forward and inspected the projectile with a disturbed expression.

It was _off._

Only by a maximum of one, maybe one and a half centimetres, an absolutely infinitesimal amount. But it was still off, nonetheless.

He growled and ripped the arrow from its place, shoving it back into the quiver and tossing it aside. He grabbed his leather jacket, appreciating the familiarity of the smooth material as he pulled it over his shoulders.

He didn't usually walk in the middle of the day.

But he didn't usually _miss._

* * *

Hallie picked up the most recent manuscript that had been left on her desk, taking the rather large file and putting it in her rather large handbag, grabbing her cardigan and shrugging it on.

The office was oddly quiet – though it _was_ a Tuesday. Tuesday was the typical deadline day of each week. It varied enough, but it was normal for not many people to be around on a Tuesday. Not quite as normal for there to be _no one._

 _But then again,_ Hallie mused, _I might just be even more out of it today than I thought, noticing something as meaningless as that._

She'd been hyperaware every time she saw the faintest glimpse of a leather jacket out of the window that was right by her desk. Or plaid. Or that familiar head of spiked brown hair. Or just anything that remotely reminded her of the evening she'd experienced not 24 hours ago.

She hadn't slept at all that night, but she wasn't sure whether that was a result of her insomnia or the excitement and restlessness she'd been left with after getting in the taxi that Clint had called for her. Maybe it was both. She was sorely disappointed, to say the least, when she realised that neither had exchanged numbers, and she didn't know his last name, so there was no way she'd find him in an address book. Not that she'd _actually_ considered looking. That would be creepy.

She'd been on high alert – and she wasn't sure if it was quite conscious or subconscious – for anyone who looked the least bit similar, but she was simultaneously trying to convince herself to give it up. In a city of 8 million people, there was a very, _very_ slim chance of meeting the same person twice. _It would be worth something if I did._

As she stepped out of the small building, she felt the cool air hit her face pleasantly. The way to her apartment, if she crossed the bridge, would probably add a good half an hour to her walk. _It's a nice day,_ she reasoned. As if that was the real truth in her detour.

As she walked, she felt her feet become numb, every step an echo of another, no effort or real thought required.

 _"I was thinking about how blue your eyes are."_

The words were impossible to push out of her head. She'd been hearing them all day.

 _'Hallie'._ She could get used to that.

She didn't even see that he was just a few feet away from her by the time she came upon the bridge. Not at first.

Clint was leaning over the edge of the bridge, his elbows rested on the cool metal as he looked out over the flowing water, the sun still high in the sky among the blue and the clouds.

The blue reminded him of her eyes.

"Not gonna jump, are you?"

He threw himself around at the sound of that familiar voice, and he blinked twice at the sight of her. She was shifting the handle of her large handbag, one hand holding her hair back in the soft breeze.

After a moment of recovering himself – and refusing to question why he hadn't noticed her approaching – he smiled. "Are you?" He couldn't fight the chuckle that came out with the words.

He wasn't sure if she'd play along further, but was happy when she did. "What kind of a response is that?" She quipped.

The pair smiled wider as he responded. "I've had a long day." They both laughed, jovial sounds that merged favourably.

Hallie hung her head for a moment before flicking it back up, pursing her lips. "Well, I happen to make some exceptional tea."

He stepped towards her, cocking his head slightly. "Oh, you do?"

She smiled and laughed, nodding. "I've got quality cheap teabags at home."

"Quality cheap?" He raised his eyebrows with a grin.

"I don't have all the money in the world." She smiled, dropping the banter. "But I really do have tea, and I really would like to pay you back for last night."

Clint nodded, dipping his head and gesturing away from himself. "Well then, lead the way."

* * *

As Hallie opened the door to her small apartment, the first thing Clint noticed was the traditional, almost old-fashioned style. From the small, well adorned fireplace, complete with a small stack of minimal firewood, to the overhanging wooden beam that ran across between the lounge and the kitchen, the entire place was quaint and very quiet, though it was a pleasant quietness.

"This is it. I know it's pretty… uh, outdated, but yeah. I prefer it."

The apartment was divided into two sections by the overhanging beam, the first housing the lounge area and a door that he assumed led to her bedroom and bathroom. The second was the small kitchen that had its place beside a large desk. The desk was covered in papers, and it had a wooden back with a pin board on it, leading up towards small draws. It seemed more like the desk of a young girl than a typical office desk. _It suits her more_ , he decided.

Just as he was finishing his inspection of the space, his eyes fell upon the dartboard that hung on the wall between the kitchen and the desk. He couldn't help but notice the many small pinholes that decorated the wall around it. _Someone isn't a good shot._

He smirked and pointed towards the source of his observations. "Someone not a good shot?" He voiced his previous thoughts.

Hallie looked up from the desk, where she had just set her handbag. "Uh, no, that was my brother. I'm actually a decent shot." She held her hands up with a small laugh, and Clint could tell she was lying.

 _Why is she lying? Is she trying to impress me?_ He smirked at the thought. _One does not simply 'impress' Hawkeye. Hawkeye does, however, impress others._

"I'm a decent shot." He shrugged as a grin crept onto his face. "Alright, how 'bout a bet?"

She quirked an eyebrow in response, waiting silently.

Clint thought for a moment. "Whoever has the best shot wins. If I win, you have to make me tea again tomorrow. If you win…" He gestured towards her, leaving the terms open for her alteration.

He caught the sly biting of her lip, and he knew she was considering backing out. _Come on, love, that'd be no fun,_ he thought as he waited.

Finally, she nodded. "If I win, you have to take me to that restaurant again. But we have to order something other than tea this this time."

Clint's eyebrows perked. "Like a date?"

Hallie nodded awkwardly.

His smirk remained prevalent. "Well, I'm almost tempted to let you win if that's the case."

He was glad when Hallie took the challenge he'd presented, biting back with a quick, "Let me win? We'll see about that."

He almost felt guilty for how truly unfair this bet was, unbeknownst to her.

They took a dart each and Clint gestured for her to go first, allowing her to step back and take aim.

He could see where she was going wrong… Actually, it was hard _not_ to. She was tense, putting her arm too high, and when she finally released, she flicked her entire arm – lacking any strength in her flick to even sustain the thing – as opposed to flicking her wrist.

Clint shook off the silent judging of her technique, willing Hawkeye to sit back for a while as he stepped up, pushing away the thought of his near miss just a short time before. He took aim briefly and, with a rapid flick of his wrist, launched the dart.

 _Bullseye._

A grin, that same rush of accomplishment he always felt upon hitting a target, flashed across his face, and he glanced sideways to see Hallie with her mouth hanging slightly open. Where her dart had barely caught the board, his had been a perfect shot.

She turned to him slowly and narrowed her eyes. "You said you were a 'decent' shot."

Clint just shrugged. "So did you."

Hallie huffed and stepped over to the board, pulling the two darts out and stalking back over to him, handing him one. "That was lucky. There's no way you'll do it a second time."

Clint paused for a moment before holding out his hand. She gave him a confused look, but handed him the second dart.

He positioned himself with the darts between his fingers, almost as if they were throwing knives. He faltered momentarily, mentally chastising himself for drawing nearly everything back to his marksmanship. _That_ is _my life_ , a part of him reasoned _._ He dismissed the thought and, with another flick of the wrist, landed both darts within the bullseye, turning and giving the now doubly surprised Hallie a sheepish grin and a shrug.

"Special forces." He claimed with a sly smirk.

Hallie shook her head, recovering from the moment. "Okay, so, yeah," she began, heading over to begin the tea. "I might have lied in saying I was _at all_ decent. And yeah, the holes in the wall are mine. The majority of the wear and tear on the actual board is really just my brother." She paused, but continued at Clint's curious expression. "He's 11, turning 12, and ever since the Avengers saved the city – or, well, the world, I guess – he's been _ridiculously_ in love with the prospect of being a superhero."

She let out a laugh then, and Clint couldn't help but smile at the softness of it. He trained his eyes on her hands as they soaked the two cups of tea gradually. "So, he's always going on about saving people, and it's really just adorable. But he has this particular obsession – don't ask me why – with the archer, Hawkeye." She didn't glance up as she continued. "I mean, I could understand, say, Captain America or Thor – they _are_ clearly superhuman in some way or another – but Hawkeye is just an ordinary guy, right? He's just really good with a bow and arrow." She looked up now and shrugged as she handed Clint his tea, not noticing the frown on his face. "But, I guess, maybe that's the appeal."

"What's appealing about being a human?"

Hallie noticed the twisted expression on Clint's face this time. _He's on the special forces…_ She reasoned, revelation washing over her. _Maybe he feels like he's not 'on par' with the Avengers?_ She decided that it was something like that, and quickly tried to amend her words as best she could.

"I don't really know what makes up being a human – I mean, there are a million different arguments when it comes to what being human _actually means_. Biological, spiritual, emotional…" She paused to sip her tea in thought, grimacing when it was too hot. "I guess… It's the ability to be weak, as well as strong."

Clint looked up from his own tea, staring her directly in the eyes as she continued carefully.

"I think that a lot of people regard being human as weak, and that's meant to be a flaw. But weakness is… Subjective. It's also kind of beautiful." Her eyebrows drew together at this, and the seriousness dripped away from the conversation as she headed to the freezer, grabbing a block of ice. "Except for when you burn your tongue on your tea." She popped the block in her mouth, glad that the tingling sensation gradually numbed.

Clint smiled half-heartedly at that. He felt weakened, ironic as that was. He wasn't sure if she'd ever realise just how close to his heart she had hit with those words. It was all that and more – he really was just a human. It had become acutely apparent to him ever since he was so easily controlled by Loki. He was just _human._

He felt a moment of anger, and he couldn't tell whether it was Clint or Hawkeye who brought it on. _'Weakness is beautiful?'_ He internally scoffed. _She knows nothing of what it is to feel so weak._

And then, as quickly as the anger had come, it ebbed away, replaced by the gentle words he heard from the gentle girl who, he reminded himself, had intended no harm.

"… wasn't allowed to take archery lessons, so when I brought it in, his face just lit up, like Christmas. It was kind of just blackmail to get him to visit me more often." Her laugh comforted the hollowness he felt, and he was suddenly aware of how drained he was after the mix of emotions. "He comes around a lot more often now. Still not a great deal, but at least enough to have done that." She gestured to the board. "I'm just glad he has someone to look up to."

There was something else behind her words, but he couldn't even begin to draw on the energy required to question it. So he left it with a simple response.

"Yeah."

* * *

 _ **A significantly important note: Thank you eternally to the two people who reviewed the first chapter. The story had only been up 6 hours by the time two reviews came in. It made me really happy. Also, thank you to the followers and favourites. It all means a lot to me.**_

 _ **Please drop a review if you have the time!**_


	3. Clint of Easy Sleep?

**We Might Fall**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Clint of… Easy Sleep?**

"Okay, so, how does your landlord even let you have a dartboard in here?" Clint speculated.

They had resumed drinking their tea in silence, and honestly, the bitter taste and warm mug in his hands made him feel revitalized as he pushed her words out of his mind. _I'm Clint Barton right now. Hawkeye has no reason to be here. That part of my life does not need to intersect with this one._

 _But, wait, is she a part of my life now? When did it start to feel like that? I've barely known her for 24 hours._

"Honestly," He returned his attention to Hallie as she spoke. "He's doesn't want me to have it. He says I have to fix it by the end of the year, or we'll have problems." Hallie smiled and shrugged. "It's worth it. I remember my brother – his name is Harrison – staring at the TV, totally wide-eyed, when the Avengers were fighting in New York. It was pretty amazing, really."

Clint smiled. Despite having felt offended and angry not 20 minutes ago, somehow, Hallie's awed face made pride bubble inside of him. "Yeah, it was."

Hallie smiled at him and took his now empty cup, setting them both in the sink. She stood rigidly and stared around her small apartment. "Uh. Yeah, as I said, I know it's small and stuff… And messy. But, yeah. Honestly, I'd prefer it to be spacious, but hey, it's affordable and nice." It was all uttered in a rambling drawl.

Clint followed her gaze around the room, trying to think of what he could say that would calm her slightly. But, truthfully, he was also on edge. His eyes shifted to her desk, where he again saw the pin board, empty aside a few notes.

He walked over and ran his fingers across them.

"'Life is a fairy tale. But to see it, you must open your eyes.' – Olianna Port." He read out loud, and heard Hallie laugh sheepishly from behind him.

"Yeah, I mean, I read for a living. Particularly love fairy tales." He felt her approach behind him, keeping a minimal distance.

He continued along the second note. "If I am worth anything later, I am worth something now. For wheat is wheat, even if people think it is a grass in the beginning. – Vincent van Gogh."

Another sheepish laugh. "I like Vincent van Gogh. He was pretty wonderful."

He turned and eyed her nervous demeanour. "You know, you don't have to justify all of these?"

Hallie stepped closer. "I might have to justify that next one." She gestured back to the board.

He glanced back. "'It's just a flesh wound'?" He questioned, throwing her with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

Hallie's face turned slightly red. "I used to say it to my brother whenever he'd hurt himself, to calm him down. Truthfully, I don't even know where the quote comes from. I just know it's a thing that makes him laugh."

Clint's eyes widened. "You haven't even seen the original scene? It's hilarious!"

Hallie giggled, an adorable sound that Clint couldn't tire of hearing. "Nope."

Clint shook his head, turning back to the pin board and taking a piece of notepaper from her desk, grabbing a pen from the little penholder, and began to write. He felt Hallie trying to peek over his shoulder, and purposely moved in front of her so that she couldn't.

When he'd finally dotted off his note, he took a spare pin and pinned it down, stepping back to allow Hallie to inspect his work.

 _'For whenever you have a long day.'_ It followed up with his number, and she turned back after reading it and flashed him a brilliant smile. He thought he might get sunspots on his eyes if he looked at that wonderful blue too long.

* * *

She was in an absolute daze. Clint left shortly after adding to her pin board, and Hallie couldn't stop staring at the note.

His handwriting was surprisingly not as messy as she would have imagined. It wasn't perfect, and his letters were all very sharp, but it was well suited to him, she decided. _His handwriting shouldn't be so noteworthy. Why am I admiring it again?_

She had entered his number in her phone as soon as he had stepped out the door, and for the last half an hour, she'd had an open text message sitting on her desk as she cleaned up, something she did whenever she was nervous or on edge.

It wasn't long before her exhaustion caught up with her, and she grabbed her phone and threw herself onto her bed, curling up into a ball on her side and staring at the still blank text.

 _'From your personal tea service.'_ She finally typed, sending it with the push of a button and setting the phone face down on her bedside table, spinning onto her opposite side and staring at the wall.

 _This is my first 'crush' since I first started working at the firm. That's what, 8 years now?_ She willed herself to stop thinking and sleep, but soon enough, a vibration from her phone had her throw herself back towards it.

 _'Haha. Thank you, Hallie of books and tea.'_

With a soft laugh and a grin, Hallie was quick to type out her next message, but hovered over the send button momentarily. _Am I replying too quickly?_ She wondered. She quickly shook her head and hit send.

 _'My pleasure. The leather jacket suits you, but I still like the plaid.'_

His reply was almost immediate, and she wondered if he had even considered the time between replying as she had. She was probably overthinking things.

She read Clint's reply. _'But plaid isn't as badass. Come on, Hallie.'_

At the use of her name – or at least, his name for her – she felt an involuntary shiver cross her body. She was starting to really like 'Hallie'.

And just like that, the two began a natural exchange.

 _'Tell me something about yourself.'_ Hallie began.

 _'Like what?'_

 _'A fact. Something you like?'_

 _'I like birds? Your turn.'_

Clint smirked at his message, almost feeling guilty for the vague hint at his identity. He barely had time to think before Hallie had responded, and he repositioned himself to be lying on the couch, ignoring the hum of the others in the kitchen.

 _'I like tea.'_ Came Hallie's reply.

 _'Not fair. I already knew that.'_

 _'Fine. I like rock music. The good hard rock stuff. Bet you didn't see that coming. Your turn.'_

Clint blinked once. He certainly _hadn't_ seen that coming.

 _'Guess that makes up for the glasses/books stereotype.'_ He paused before sending a second message, hoping he'd made Hallie laugh.

 _'I like to go on long walks after missions, especially at night. Less people that way.'_

 _'Hey, I already kind of knew that.'_

Clint was about to respond when a second message came through.

 _'But hey, I'm often awake late at night. If you ever want to after a mission, you can come get some tea.'_

He could practically feel the nerves radiating through the message. _Her face would have been so red._ He smiled at the thought.

 _'My personal tea service? Your turn.'_ He sent it with a smirk.

 _'I'll just send you to buy more tea whenever I need it. And it's still your turn. Tell me something I don't know.'_

He stopped as he typed the message and waited a brief moment before finishing.

 _'Fine. I like you.'_

There was a long pause before a response, but strangely, Clint knew he hadn't scared her away at all. Rather than lacking confidence as he had lately, he felt certain that there was a mutual attraction. There was no worry in his actions – at least, he didn't _think_ there was.

Finally, there came a reply.

 _'Like I said, tell me something I don't know.'_

He grinned in time for a second message to come through.

 _'Also, you sound like a teenager.'_

His grin widened, and he let out a soft laugh, glancing back, glad that he hadn't caught the attention of the others.

 _'Your turn, Hallie.'_

He waited a moment before the long response came.

 _'I like guys with scruffy brown hair, blue eyes, plaid and leather, raspberry vanilla tea and stupidly good aim.'_

Clint laughed out loud, ignoring the sudden quieting of the Avengers behind him, a mental image of Hallie laughing popping into his head. It made him really… happy.

 _'Oddly specific.'_ He responded.

 _'Perfectly specific.'_ Came Hallie's reply. _'I'm going to sleep now.'_

Clint frowned. _'Already? It's barely 6.'_

 _'Gotta catch sleep when I can.'_

He pursed his lips. It made him kind of sad, that she had that kind of mentality. He had once thought that a while-you-can mentality was reserved for people in positions like him; a spy.

 _'Did you at least eat?'_ He finally typed.

 _'Not yet. I will when I wake up.'_

Clint smiled grimly. He knew that feeling.

 _'Don't make me come over there.'_ He teased.

 _'Hah. Goodnight, Clint.'_

He pushed himself off the couch and headed towards the elevator as he typed.

 _'Goodnight, Hallie. Sleep well.'_

 _'Sleep well-er.'_

With the final text received, he'd arrived at his level and made his way to his bed, lying down. He was surprisingly tired.

 _What are doing, Clint?_ He laughed at himself. _It's barely 6._

He covered himself in the blanket, still fully clothed. It was a habit he'd developed, feeling as though he had to be ready for an attack in the middle of the night, despite knowing otherwise, realistically.

As he shut his eyes, a single thought drifted into his head.

 _Thanks, Hallie._

* * *

Back in the kitchen, the Avengers had fallen silent.

"Did he just-" Natasha stopped in confusion, watching the elevator, as though expecting her best friend to come back and come out with some stupid joke.

"Told you." Tony smirked. "It's a girl. Has to be."

"He could be gay." This time it was Bruce who spoke up, shrugging his shoulders. At the silence that followed, he paused and glanced around the room. "That's okay… right?" He let the sentence dangle in the air as it suddenly became awkward.

"Yeah! Yeah! Of course." Tony nodded along a little too fast.

Natasha, on the other hand, snorted. "Yeah, right. Clint, of all people? Nope."

Bruce shrugged again. "He could be bi."

Natasha raised her eyebrows with a slight grin. "Why are you so adamant that we're okay with Clint not being straight?" She questioned, shifting herself slightly closer to him.

Bruce rolled his eyes and glanced away. "Why are you such a SHIELD agent?" He retorted.

"Alright, guys." Steve cut in, glancing mutually at Thor, both shaking their heads at the antics of their companions. "Let's just eat."

Well, nobody could complain with that.

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** _Sorry that this took so long to come out. I know, a slow updating story isn't a good one, but I should be able to update more towards once a week after exams are over (so, about three, four weeks). That aside, thank you so so so much for the 8 reviews in 2 chapters. That's more than I've ever received, and it really gives me motivation to write at least a little bit a day! Thanks! So much. I used to reply to each one, but I just don't have the time these days. Would people want me to reply in an A/N during the next chapter, like some people do, or would they prefer just no reply?_

 _Reviews are hugely appreciated._

 _Ciao!_


	4. Clint of Truthful Promises

**We Might Fall**

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Clint of Truthful Promises**

 _10pm._ She thought bitterly. _10pm and I'm only just getting off work._ She turned the corner and found herself nearing the bridge. Sure, the walk past the bridge added a good half an hour to getting home, but she enjoyed it – and it was slightly more in the open than the backalleys she had previously walked through. She felt safer, and she wasn't sure whether that was because it was a generally safer route, or if it was because it was past the place where she'd met Clint.

After his first visit to her apartment, it had gone on to become a regular thing. For a week, he turned up every other day, but at the end of that week…

 _"I've got a mission. I'll be gone a couple days."_

He'd said a couple of days. It had been 6. Hallie was worried, to say the least. But she was trying not to let it get to her. Needless to say, her insomnia was worse. She'd slept a total of 5 hours and 37 minutes in the last 6 days. Not that she was counting.

But as she finally neared her front door, checking her watch and reading 10:42, she felt a wave of tiredness wash over her. Her fingers fumbled with her keys until she finally managed to get it unlocked, shoving her door open and flicking the lock before she dropped her oversized bag and kicked off her shoes, curling into herself on the couch.

She was asleep within minutes.

* * *

"I'll take over. Get some shut-eye before we get back."

Clint snapped out of his slightly dazed position in the cockpit of the quintjet, looking up at Tony and nodding, flicking the jet to autopilot as he rose with a brief thanks to the Stark.

He found a secure spot in a seat slightly further away from the majority of the team – Natasha was talking quietly with Steve and Bruce was sleeping in a seat of his own. Thor had made his way over to talk with Tony, and, comfortable with the state of the team, Clint rested his head back and closed his eyes.

 _I hope she's not worried._

27\. That was the 27th time he'd thought about Hallie in the, what, 7 days they'd been away, now? Not that he was counting.

He knew that they still had a few hours before landing, and at a glance it would be around 3am when they did – the whole team would just crash.

He wouldn't. He never just crashed. He always walked.

As his muscles became less tense with a deep exhale, he rested a hand over his eyes.

Maybe this time he would skip the walk.

* * *

Hallie stifled a yawn as she left the red ink marks of her favourite pen all over the manuscript she had just finished. The entire thing was riddled with mistakes and she hadn't the faintest idea how it had made it through the first branch of editing in the state it was in.

She rose from her desk and headed into her boss' office, leaving it on his desk at his absence before going back to enter the necessary information in her computer.

As she filled in the final section and printed a copy, she glanced at the clock above the main reception desk. _3pm_. She gave the girl at the front desk the hard copy of the manuscript details, grabbing her bag and signing herself out with various goodbyes around the office as she headed home, this time not bothering to take the longer way by the bridge.

 _If he's back, he'll come._ She pursed her lips at the thought. _But what if he doesn't? What if he never comes back? What if he dies, or decides he doesn't like me anymore?_ She sighed and shook herself out. _Nope, you are just really, really tired. You need some rest._

Before she knew it she was in front of her apartment and unlocking the door, only to scream and clamp her hands over her mouth at the sight of the man on her couch as she walked in.

"Clint?!" She yelled, "What the _hell_ are you doing here?!"

He was up in a second, his arms resting on her shoulders. "Calm down, Hallie." With his tone of voice, he almost could have been pouting and it wouldn't have been surprising. "I thought you'd be happy to see me."

Hallie shrugged him off with a sigh, calming surprisingly quickly, and threw her bag down before sitting on the couch Clint had just rose from. Part of her couldn't help but notice the warmth from where he'd been sitting. "I am," She sighed again. _I really, really am._ "I'm just tired and I didn't expect you to be in here – actually, how _did_ you get in?"

He threw himself down beside her with a sheepish grin. "Well, I definitely _didn't_ sneak in through the kitchen window – you should probably start locking that."

Hallie gave him a tired look. "Why do I get the feeling you'd find yourself a way in even if I did?"

Clint laughed and nodded. "You're probably right about that." He paused before beckoning her with a flick of his head. "Come here, you look like you've had a long day."

Hallie hesitated before smiling softly and resting her head on his shoulder, allowing him to put an arm around her. "It's only 3pm, as is the life of an insomniac – all I did was finish editing the manuscript I've been working on. You're the one who was on a mission for a week. How did that go, by the way – although, actually, I totally understand if you can't tell me, special forces, it would, uh, make sense that you couldn't? Well, I mean, it's probably illegal, so-"

Clint laughed and cut her off. "Hey, it's alright. Technically, I probably could tell you. But even if I could, I wouldn't want to. It's not exactly a fun conversation."

He felt a shrug from beneath his arm. "Hey, I'd understand if you didn't want to talk about it – I imagine it's taxing work, and I mean that physically and mentally. But I've always got open ears – conversations so very often _aren't_ fun."

"Wow," He let out a humoured exhale. "Wise Hallie. I think I like Wise Hallie?"

There was a laugh in response. "You _think_ you do?" The two both laughed – they seemed to do that around each other often. "But what did you mean by 'technically'?"

Clint pursed his lips. "Well, uh, in my company, technically if you're seriously involved with someone you can disclose information to them, to an extent, as long as you exercise caution."

Hallie shifted from under him and turned to be cross-legged, facing him. "Are we seriously involved?" It was the talk they'd both been waiting for, particularly after having been apart for a week.

Clint brought his hands together, having already anticipated what he needed to say in this conversation. "Well, I'm an agent on the special forces. I'm never completely safe, which would, by extension, mean that you'll never been completely safe, just by being involved with me. You could have to deal with loss one day, having children could be problematic and difficult, as would a life with me in general. My job doesn't exactly pay well, and I can be gone for weeks at a time, leaving you on short notice without any warning, and my co-workers, if you were ever to meet them, are probably difficult people to deal with. You wouldn't be able to tell anyone about me, specifically…" He took a breath. "A relationship with me is going to be rocky – and we're moving fast. But if you're willing to try, with all that and more, then I am too."

Hallie gave a half-hearted smile after a few moments of silence. "You've really thought this through."

"Working in an area like this, you have to."

She nodded and the smile faded, her lips replaced by a serious line. "I'm willing to try. Nobody has made me laugh like you have – this is the first real passion I've felt since I came here. And I've been sleeping more, which is crazy." _You have no idea_ , Clint couldn't help but think. "So, if you're willing, I'm willing."

Clint couldn't help the tired smile that lit up his face, and he beckoned her towards him once again. This time, she cuddled closer into his side, craving the warmth and familiarity. "Just so you know, I've been sleeping easier, too." He told her, resting his head on hers lightly. "Girlfriend." His lips curled upward, happy with the sound of the word.

She chuckled in his arms. "Boyfriend," She spoke teasingly. "We really are teenagers."

The pair laughed at that before resting in a comfortable silence. The silence was broken when Hallie turned herself around, ending up lying with her head in his lap, looking up at him. "So, we're exclusive. In a relationship. 'Together'." He laughed at what he considered to be her adorable frown. "We'll make this work, yeah?" She looked into his eyes and he once again caught himself admiring the stunning azure that was close to stopping his heart altogether.

 _I am falling fast. Fast, and completely._

* * *

"Did you see Barton leave today?" Tony addressed Natasha as he sat down in the general living area, flicking through various surveillance feeds tracking the aforementioned man's exit of the tower earlier that day.

The spy blinked. "No." She denied simply before returning to the book that was resting in her lap.

Tony smirked. "He's slippery as always." He mused. "I'm willing to bet he's deliberately being sneaky – sneaking off for a girl."

Steve spoke up from his place on the couch a seat away from Natasha, who appeared to be paying little attention to the billionaire. "You should leave it alone, Tony. Don't meddle with this – you've seen as much as the rest of us how much more focused Clint is, how much… better he seems."

Tony nodded animatedly. "Yes, but that's exactly why we _have_ to meddle!" He exclaimed, reviewing the footage on his tablet. "I want to know who's made our bird go soft."

Natasha screwed her nose up at his words. "He hasn't gone _soft_."

This time it was Bruce who spoke as he sat in the available armchair. "Isn't anyone else worried about what could happen if he brings a citizen into this?" He gestured around the room, at the air in general, and the rest of the present Avengers knew what he was referring to.

Tony nodded, suddenly becoming serious. "We all are; which is why I want to know who this mystery woman – or man – is before he goes running off with them."

Of all their disagreements, this was one thing they could all agree on.

* * *

"We'll make this work, yeah?" Hallie was looking up at him with those eyes, and he said the most truthful thing he's said in years.

"We'll give it our best shot." He told her, not moving his gaze.

Hallie's lips twitched. "I'm a pretty bad shot."

Clint laughed and felt his muscles relax. "You're a _terrible_ shot." She pouted playfully, to which he responded, "But I'll be good enough for the both of us."

* * *

 _ **A/N: So, good news is I'm not dead and I fully intend to, even if it takes a long time, continue this story. I'm also currently writing a Glee story, while working on an original novel, and I just started a story for The Flash.**_

 _ **So, I'm taking on a lot in amongst my last year of high school and updates may be skewed. But I love this story and I want to thank each and every person who has followed and reviewed at any time, because you jolt me into writing a little more each time.**_

 _ **Now, it's 1:27am and I need to sleep. So, goodnight, and thank you all so much. I'm writing this as much for you as I am for me.**_


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